a moment's surrender
by hashire
Summary: Eren leaves, Mikasa flounders, and things change.
1. part 1

The first part of a thing. Canon compliant so spoilers if you haven't read the most recent arc. Also posted on AO3 and Tumblr.

* * *

The breeze off the ocean chills her, the smell of salt tickling her nose. Mikasa sits on the grass at the edge of the sand, arms around her folded up knees, staring out into the distance. She tries to imagine she can still see Eren out on the water, though he's been gone for more than a day.

She doesn't react when Sasha sits next to her. She loops her arm through Mikasa's, placing her other hand near her elbow.

"It'll be OK," Sasha says, laying her head on Mikasa's shoulder. She welcomes the warmth of her friend but doesn't lean into it or even acknowledge it. The sounds of the birds sailing overhead fill the silence for a long time.

"I don't understand," Mikasa says to the ocean. "I know he's impulsive, but I never thought he'd just…leave us."

Sasha rubs a hand along her arm. The action does nothing to soothe her. "He'll come back," she says.

Mikasa wants to believe her, but, at this point, all certainty has left her. "I hope he will." A bird squawks overhead. They lapse back into silence before Sasha starts to hum a familiar tune. It reminds Mikasa of the days in the barracks after long, hard days of training: Sasha would hum it in the bunk above her late at night when she couldn't sleep. Mikasa didn't mind it, though Ymir would often snap to cut it out. It hasn't been very long since those days, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

After a while, Sasha stands up and stretches. Mikasa looks up at her. "I'm going to go eat. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

Mikasa shakes her head, letting a hand drop to the ground and plucking at a blade of grass. "Thanks." She looks away from the expression of concern that crosses Sasha's face. But she doesn't push, and Mikasa is thankful for that.

"I'll see you later," she says, slowly walking away. When another cool breeze comes off the water, Mikasa shivers.

The sun sets as she toys with the grass and then the sand, barely paying attention to what her hands are doing. Time passes with very little of her notice. She wraps her arms around her knees again, pulling them in close.

Something drops on her head after she zones out again. It partially covers her face but when she looks up she can see who did it: Levi.

"It would be a shame if you died from hypothermia," he remarks.

She pulls at the fabric of what she realizes is a blanket and tries to respond that she isn't cold. It doesn't come out: her teeth start chattering. It's as though she only just realized she's cold. Instead of arguing, she wraps the blanket around her shoulders.

"Why are you still out here?" He sits down next to her, not close enough that they're touching but enough for her to be aware that he is close. He leans back on an elbow, kicking his legs out in front him so he reclines and looks up at the sky.

"I don't know," Mikasa admits, shivering. She tugs at the blanket but it's not big enough to cover her legs. She pulls them up closer to her body. It helps a little. "I know he isn't going to come back…yet."

"You think he won't?"

"I don't know," she repeats. The wind picks up. A wave crashes against the shore.

"You should go inside," he says as a shooting star streaks across the sky. "There's no point in staying out here and staring at nothing."

Mikasa can think of no arguments. She says nothing. The blanket helps, she finds, as she warms up. Levi seems to understand that she won't respond but doesn't badger her. She's not sure why he hasn't dragged her back. Maybe he, too, is waiting for something out here.

Her eyes start to close without her permission. She's warm and exhausted and unable to fight the sleep that tries to overtake her. She shakes her head once but it does nothing. Just as she starts to sag to her right - toward Levi - he puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Armin," he says, "take her to her room." Mikasa blinks and looks around. Armin, standing nearby with a solemn look on his face, nods and approaches her. He offers a hand that she takes. She can't seem to stand. It's as though she cannot fight anymore.

"Can you walk?" Armin asks her, voice soft and comforting. She stumbles when she tries to take a step. He looks over her shoulder, an unsure expression on his face.

"I'm sure you can handle her," Levi says to the unspoken question. Armin draws in a breath and turns.

"Here," he says, "climb on my back." Mikasa does so with sluggish limbs. He hooks hands under her knees as she puts her arms around his neck. After a wobble where she's sure he's going to drop her, he starts walking toward her dorm.

"Thanks," she mutters into his neck, sleep claiming her again. She's not sure whom she's talking to at this point, but Armin is the only one who can hear her.

Mikasa barely wakes when he puts her in her bed and tugs the blankets over her. She hears Sasha asking Armin questions, though she can't hear what either of them are saying. Instead of trying to figure it out, she pulls the blanket around her shoulders tighter, only vaguely aware of Sasha tucking her in.


	2. part 2

Here we are, almost a year later. I marked this as on hiatus for a while because I didn't think I would continue it. After some sweet comments, I decided to swallow my doubts and go with it. I hope it worked! I have ideas of what I want to do and how to end this, but I just need to figure out how to get there.

* * *

Thunder rumbles in the distance. The clouds above swirl dark and ominous, threatening rain. The humidity in the air makes her hair stick to the back of her neck, sweat forming under the scarf still looped around her neck.

Mikasa knows Armin is watching her as she picks at her eggs, moving them around and around her plate without taking a bite.

"Mikasa - " he starts, and she sets down her fork and stops him.

"I'm not hungry," she says, picking up the spoon next to her oatmeal instead and starting to stir it. She could leave - should leave - but that day's meetings won't start until this afternoon, postponed by the higher ups sequestering themselves away in the far corner of headquarters and locking the door. There's nowhere to escape to now. She reaches to tug at her scarf, slipping one finger under the fabric and pulling it from her damp skin.

Armin continues to watch her through all of this, his face a careful mask. Mikasa's stomach growls then, loud enough for both of them to hear it. His face melts into a frown, eyebrows furrowing, mouth opening, but Sasha sets her tray down next to Mikasa. She wears a large smile and pink-stained cheeks, humming as she sits down. She then looks between them, reads the atmosphere, and deflates, just a little bit. Mikasa notices and digs at her oatmeal, guilt bubbling in her throat.

"What's going on?" Sasha picks up her spoon. She holds it in the air above her food, waiting, watching, looking between the two of them. Armin takes a deep breath. Mikasa grits her teeth. It's too much all at once, and she wants it to stop, wants life to pause, wants Eren to come back. A snap of lightning hits the sea, so, so close to where they sit. No one moves for a moment, the tension as thick as the humidity.

Mikasa's shoulders go up to her ear as Armin opens his mouth. Thunder cracks overhead, loud, booming, full of promise. His words are lost underneath it.

She realizes then that she's _mad_ , so mad. It licks at her guts and pushes away the guilt at her throat. But why is she mad? Is she really mad at Armin? He's done nothing wrong, nothing potentially unforgivable. He's only cared for her. A bead of sweat trickles from the nape of her neck down her back. She averts her eyes, looking down at the oatmeal. It shows no signs of her anger, settled back into the bowl, appearing undisturbed.

Sasha puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. "You should eat. You didn't last night, did you?" She's right. He's right. She nods and takes a bite of the oatmeal then. It's tepid and bland (she forgot to put anything in it) but makes her realize, understand, know that she's been doing the wrong thing and that she's so, so hungry.

She finishes her food in record time, accepting the extra bowl that Sasha pushes her way after. "I can go get more," she chirps, a warm smile on her face.

When Mikasa gives Armin and apologetic look and open her mouth, he just shakes his head and smiles, because he knows her so well.

* * *

The afternoon meeting is chaotic and hellish. Hellish because the cooling air sputters and dies shortly after they begin. Hellish because there's no breeze from the open windows, and the fans that are quickly set up only stir the hot air around with no respite.

Hellish because of the arguments, the accusatory looks, and her inability to say anything. She wants to - oh, how she wants to - yell and tell them they're all wrong, that they don't _know_ him the way she does. She glances over at Armin, who appears similarly self-stifled. He shakes his head at her, like he did this morning, but his expression is guarded and darker than it had been.

But she can't help the thoughts that creep into her mind, the ones that dig at her under her skin, that say maybe she doesn't know him either.

Seagulls cry out in the distance. They look like dots just over the horizon. She can see the newer recruits playing in the water, splashing each other, completely uncaring of what's happening in this dark, hot, suffocating room. They'll be briefed again later. Maybe. If they can come to some sort of consensus about what to say, what to do. There might be rumors - there must be rumors - about his disappearance, since it's made waves through the higher ranks and the entire Survey Corps. They're trying to keep it under wraps for now: how bad would it look for them that Humanity's Hope has defected (which is what they currently believe he has done)?

As time passes, Mikasa feels more and more eyes on her. They're waiting for her to say something, she knows. They're daring her to say something. They're ready to respond. Armin puts his hand over hers. She finds that she's clenching her pants so hard her knuckles are white. She loosens her grip, lets go of the fabric, stretches her now aching fingers. Armin curls his around her hand and squeezes. She flips it over so she can grab it and squeeze back.

They end the meeting with no consensus. Mikasa is up and out of the door right after Zackly clips out the last word.

* * *

Mikasa hides from the world after the meeting. She hears people walking past her door, some whispering, some talking at a normal level, all discussing Eren. Her name pops up every so often, as does Armin's. She covers her ears. No one tries to bother her, at least.

She tries to read, tries to distract herself. Nothing works. She longs for a cold shower, fanning herself with the books.

Sasha brings her food when she misses dinner. She sits next to her, humming that song again, as Mikasa eats. There are no questions, no small talk, only the soft sounds of Mikasa eating under the humming and Sasha twiddling her thumbs.

"Are you OK?" Sasha asks this once she's finished. Mikasa wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. She doesn't want Sasha to worry (more than she already is), but she can't lie.

"No." Sasha gives her a long look before nodding, understanding. She pats Mikasa's hand. The touch is clammy and this side of unpleasant. She finds some comfort in it anyway.

"I'll take those dishes back to the kitchen," she says. She smiles, bright and soft, leaving with a bounce in her step.

Mikasa crawls into bed shortly after because she has nothing else to do. She doesn't bother to change out of her clothes. She has no energy left, even as the fabric chafes at her, glued there by sweat.

* * *

Mikasa wakes to low rumbles of thunder. Darkness fills the room, and it's quiet (other than Sasha's soft snores, which are little more than background noise at this point).

She doesn't turn on a light when she goes to the showers, tracing practiced steps through the halls. She flinches at the cold water but acclimating quickly.

Her mind goes blank as the water sluices over her body, rinsing the sweat and negativity down the drain. She allows her hair to slip over her face, the stream of water running through it. Then, for the first time since Eren left, she cries.

The feeling hits her like a slap in the face, everything rushing in at once. She had been numb since she learned that he was missing, with anger and uncertainty being the only things she allowed to edge in. The despair chokes her. She can see nothing from behind the veil of her hair.

She stays like that, edging the hot water on as the cold almost becomes too much: until it does, and she has to leave.

She dries off with one of the rough towels that are kept in the bathrooms - hers forgotten in her closet, left behind in her haze - and puts on her nightgown.

Tired, _exhausted_ as she is, she doesn't think she can sleep again. She walks past the room she shares with Sasha and sees nor hears anyone up as she continues down the hall.

The kitchen in the building is empty, dark, still. There is, however, a light on in the dining area. It's small and flickering: a single candle. Mikasa pours herself a glass of water and intends to leave, but then she notices who's sitting there: Levi. With a cup of tea.

"Are you really drinking hot tea?" she blurts out without thinking. He glances over his shoulder at her from where he had been watching the lightning over the sea. The window is open and the salt scent spills in with the humid wind. His eyes then dart to the tea sitting next to him.

"Tepid tea," he says. She then looks down at the cup and finds it half-full and not steaming. The candle appears to have been burning for a while. Mikasa finds herself walking to the table, pulling out a chair, and sitting down. There are many things she could say in this moment - the tea had to have been hot at some point, why is he sitting here, how long has he been sitting here - but none of them make it past her lips. Even though the crying in the shower lifted something from deep inside of her, she's still exhausted.

Levi watches her as she sits, likely waiting for more from her. He takes a sip of his self-described tepid tea, and she does the same with her water. A bead a sweat runs down the side of her face. The humidity is a blanket: stifling and heavy; the silence between them is not. So she lets it stretch without feeling like she needs to say anything. He returns to looking out the window.

He finally breaks the silence with, "You didn't say anything again today." The peace she felt disappears, her hackles raising and emotion rushing through her guts.

"Neither did you," she snaps, because anger is easy, easier than explaining everything. The storm inside of her stops when he looks at her again. There's nothing in his face that indicates his intent was to rile her. She thinks back to what he said before and realizes there was no accusation in his voice. She takes a deep breath and relaxes. "I...didn't know what to say."

He nods, tipping his head to the side. His fingers run over the rim of his cup. "It looked like they were ready to jump on you and Armin."

"I noticed," she says, pressing the glass against the skin of her cheek and shivering. "They wouldn't have been satisfied with anything I'd have to say."

"Zackly does want to speak to the two of you soon. Hange also wants to." He stops to take a long drink of his tea, almost emptying the cup. "I'm sure you've realized that by now." She nods and waits for the questions from him. They don't come.

The words come anyway, even as she tries to tamp them down. "I don't know," she says, setting the glass down harder than she expected. "I don't know anything. I don't know why. I don't know how. I don't _know_. I want to, but I don't." Mikasa must have cried all of her tears in the shower because, though she feels like crying, she doesn't.

"I just wish," she says, pausing to let out a tremulous breath, "that I could have stopped him." He says nothing for a long time, looking back out the window.

"Sometimes," he says as the rain finally starts to fall, a cool breeze blowing through the screen and bringing the fat droplets with it, "there's nothing you can do to stop someone from doing what they feel they need to do."

He doesn't continue, but she hears what he doesn't say as the rain pounds against the roof.


End file.
